


Groundhog Life

by Kiwi_Du



Category: Groundhog Day (1993)
Genre: Gen, Ki - Freeform, Magic, Psionics, Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:35:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26946808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiwi_Du/pseuds/Kiwi_Du
Summary: Protagonist, a resident of Volgograd, the most ordinary ordinary person, discovers an incredible ability. Every time he dies, his soul and mind travel back in time to the third of June in the year two thousand, just the day after the hero turns twenty. He lives life over and over again.





	Groundhog Life

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Жизнь Сурка](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/699037) by noslnosl. 



> This is an original story. Everything will be here: super-technologies of the future, Ki, psionics, magic. Everything is as close to reality as possible and is mostly based on scientific and esoteric literature (far-fetched to the level of a story with elements of science fiction and fantasy).

I've never noticed anything strange about myself. Born in 1980, I immediately went to an orphanage. I don't know who my parents were, but the fact that they abandoned me is obvious.

An orphan's life isn't sugar or syrup, but I didn't complain. I studied, like everyone else, until the ninth grade in high school, then three years in vocational school as a turner. After leaving the shelter, I was supposed to be given an apartment, but as usual in our country, everything happens through one place, so I didn't get housing.

Later life was not very diverse, it was ordinary and rather boring. I didn't have to live on the street for a long time, because it was time to pay back the debt to the Motherland. Since I don't have rich and influential parents, in principle, I don't have any, I served two years in the army as it should be.

After the service, I finally got the proper apartment, which the commander of the unit helped me with through his friends. The apartment was not the most comfortable, a small one-bedroom apartment in a nine-story panel building on the outskirts of the city. In one case, me were lucky — me were given housing in a fairly large city, and if me shelter was located in the wilderness, me would have received a crumbling shack in a small village where there is no work, no prospects. After the orphanage and the army, where a crowd of people huddled in one room, as many as twenty-three square meters for personal use seemed just incredibly spacious mansions. The lack of furniture and broken plumbing was a little sad, but overall I was happy.

I had to live on something, so I got a job as a turner at a factory, where I worked all my adult life. I smoked like a locomotive, and though didn't drink too much, me loved it. Never had a family, never made a fortune. Unless at the instigation of friends after five years of living privatized social apartment.

Working at a factory and bad health habits do not add, already by the age of thirty I got a bunch of chronic sores, which over the years progressed and new ones were added. At the age of fifty-three, I died of lung cancer in a city hospital.

An observant person would immediately ask: "How can you, Nikolai Nikolaevich Nikolaev, in this case, reason if you must lie in the grave?".

By the way, my first name, middle name and last name, as well as many other children who came to the shelter in a similar way, were invented by the staff of the orphanage. I was lucky that I was named after the caretaker, Kolya's grandfather, who found me on the doorstep of the establishment.

This is a difficult question to answer. I didn't understand how it happened, but I closed my eyes for the last time in a hospital bed, and when I opened them, I realized that I had woken up in my apartment. Only a few oddities were observed, except that I should be dead.

First of all, the apartment was in the same form as I received it more than thirty years ago: old Soviet paper Wallpaper, yellowed with age, torn linoleum on the floor and the only furniture was in the kitchen — a skewed Cabinet with a Cabinet made of stratified chipboard.

The second oddity was that I was young and healthy again, and the only clothes I had were my military uniform, which I had come in from the demob.

Third, it was found out that the calendar shows the third of June of the two thousandth year. It was on this day that several significant events occurred at once: I turned twenty years old, and I first woke up in this very apartment, since I received it on the second of June. And I woke up just as I had in the past, on the floor, because I was sleeping on a cardboard box on which I had spread an army pea jacket.

It was as if my entire life had been a dream. If it wasn't so bright, I would have believed it. But it was with great difficulty that I could recall events that seemed infinitely remote and untrue. I mean, I couldn't remember what had happened recently, if looked at the calendar.

Perhaps it was fate that gave me a sign that I had lived wrongly, or that I would live wrongly. Maybe me should change everything.

I got a job trading in a tent at the chinese market. I began to communicate, make acquaintances, find out everything, how and what, where and what to buy, how much to sell. I saved up money and opened my tent.

At first, I traded myself, then I bought a car and hired a salesman. A few years later, opened another point and changed the domestic car to a foreign car. Then I changed my apartment to a two-room one.

When I was thirty, I opened a plumbing store and married a saleswoman who was five years younger than me. Soon we had a son, and two years later a second boy was born. I can't say that I loved my wife so much, but we lived normally and maintained an even relationship.

Tax, inspections and other fuss burned the nerves in hellish quantities. Although I didn't drink or smoke, my health problems started to appear, and at the age of forty-three I had a stroke. I managed to pull through. During the six months that I was recovering, the Manager turned around so much with theft that he almost ruined me. I had to get back into business.

At the age of forty-seven, I had a second stroke due to constant stress and was completely paralyzed. After lying in a vegetable state for a year, I prayed that I would die soon. And when did this moment come...

*** * ***

Damn it! I opened my eyes again and saw the ceiling of my old apartment. I was twenty years old again, lying on my pea jacket, and it was the third of June 2000. How glad I was to be able to move and lead a full life.

Then I realized it wasn't that simple. After the second time, it is impossible to write off everything as a prophetic dream. My whole life was like the story of the movie "Groundhog day", only the hero of this picture lived one day at a time, and I lived for decades.

And what is surprising is that when I was drinking and smoking, earning a penny and eating cheap food, I lived longer than when I was doing business, eating delicacies and driving a foreign car.

Maybe I didn't live my second life right?

This time I decided to have a good time without looking around. But as always, there was a question of money. On the one hand, these colored papers are extremely necessary for life, but I didn't want to work after two lives. I'm already an old man by the years I've lived, who should receive a legal pension, but still there, should work hard, plow hard, ruin my health.

When you want to live well and have fun, but there is no desire to work, then people take the path of crime. So I wanted easy money. Instead of stealing, I took out a loan and went on a rampage, then another loan and another until the banks stopped issuing them. There was nothing to take from me, the apartment was social, the bailiffs sent four cheerful words. Alcohol was a heavy drinker, coming off all the years of self-imposed prohibition. I started trying different drugs.

Drugs are evil! I've tried it a few times, and you're already sitting on them. So I said to myself, I'm just going to try, but in fact I got hooked on the needle. I needed money to buy drugs, so I went on a criminal path. In the beginning, I pulled the car radios, took off the wheels at night, and drained the gasoline. All this led to quite a natural result — I was caught by the police. Then the bullpen, the court and sent to cut down the forest.

The brain of a twenty-five-year-old body that had been killed in the trash had come up with what he thought was a brilliant plan. I hanged myself with a sheet.

*** * ***

Well, Hello pea jacket... Hello, cardboard, too. How glad I am to see this squalid apartment and realize that the third of June 2000 is on the calendar again.

So, it's decided, in this life, no drugs and crime.

What should I do to have money and not kill my health? This thought captured my mind for a long time. The first thing I knew, I was an idiot! That's who prevented me from remembering all sorts of lotteries and other ways to earn easy money, despite the fact that I have already been several times in the future? I could have made bets on the outcome of a sports match, but I didn't remember them on purpose, and when I tried to remember them, it didn't work out.

Can I write books? I read them. It might be plagiarism, but after the robberies, my conscience wouldn't even move for such an action. And what, you remember the texts of the best authors of the future, and write to the publisher... Aha! A hundred times a hundred...

If you ask the average person to retell a book they've read, God willing, if they remember the story. If I had an eidetic memory, then the question is removed, and so, I even read the stories of books I can hardly remember.

So, I need a quiet, profitable job with no physical exertion and no serious stress. Maybe go to work as an accountant? Normal salary, stress only during quarterly and annual reports, as well as when communicating with employees of the tax Inspectorate, which is quite possible to get used to, the rest of the time you sit at the computer, but fill out signs and papers. I was very familiar with accounting, because I am a private entrepreneur without it, but I don't have a paper about education.

Having decided that I needed this job, I went to enroll in the Institute at the correspondence faculty in the specialty "Accounting, analysis and audit". Since I am an orphan, studying in such an institution, I will be able to receive benefits until the age of twenty-three.

But while I'm going to study, I need to live on something. So I bought an empty diploma crust from a Newsstand. In a company that manufactures seals, they made me a stamp for six hundred rubles, one in one similar to that of an average College. It was not a problem to find a person who is engaged in printouts on a color printer from the ad. So it wasn't long before I was sporting a brand-new college degree as an accountant.

Surprisingly, such a simple piece of paper rolled with a Bang, and soon I was working in the office as an accountant-calculator. I had to tell them when I got a job that I was going to the Institute after technical school to continue studying in my profession, and before that I was working as a part-time employee when maintaining documentation for small entrepreneurs.

The first six years I studied at the Institute, so I had to spend my holidays studying. During this time, I changed a lot of offices and already worked as an accountant with a normal salary.

I finished my studies and started a full-fledged life. I began to closely monitor my health — visiting doctors, taking vitamins, no alcohol, Smoking and other psychotropic substances. I got girls only temporarily, began to take a week's vacation three times a year and go to different countries.

By the time I was thirty, I was working as a chief accountant and earning a fairly decent salary. I bought a car, but I didn't have enough money for a normal apartment.

I didn't start a family. I thought, since I'm going to die anyway and go back to the past, what's the point of leaving offspring? This future will be erased, along with my children and my wife, to whom I will become attached, and I will remember my lost family, as it periodically happens to me...

Remembering that life, or rather death, can present another somersault, I decided to play it safe and began to search for information about various sports events and lottery winnings. But then there was the problem of imperfection of human memory. In addition, there are so many lotteries and sports, and they have an incredible number of numbers that you would rather burst your head than remember everything.

I had to look for everything related to memory training. There is a lot of such information on the Internet, there are different courses. I started going to various training sessions to improve my memory. I taught poems and songs, used binding by associations and bright emotions. I tried to remember the appearance of people passing by. Good training consists in a simple method — you throw a fleeting glance at the person coming towards you, and then try to imagine his appearance from memory in all the details. During the meal, I began to try to determine what ingredients are included in the dish with my eyes closed.

When I realized I couldn't remember everything, I chose a date a couple of weeks after I woke up and started memorizing the combinations of the nearest winning lottery ticket. Which you need to fill out yourself.

I figured that one big win once a year would be enough for a life of luxury. In principle, one win every ten years is enough, but it's better to be safe. I fished out all the combinations I had memorized several times a week, wrote them down on paper, and compared them with my notes. Every year the result was better and better, some combinations of winning lotteries were memorized to perfection. Each year, another combination of numbers was added.

Since I lived alone, the small apartment suited me perfectly. All the accumulated money was spent on vacation travel, doctors and training.

Thanks to the developed memory, I became easier to notice inaccuracies in documentation, I was constantly aware of the laws, so I became a high-class accountant, and there were never any problems with my work.

By the age of sixty, my memory began to fail, and I had to step up my training to at least fight sclerosis and stay on the same level as the young. This was helped by new virtual reality technologies — special programs for the elderly that develop and improve memory.

This time, because I took serious care of my health, I was able to live up to my retirement, which I reached at the age of sixty-five. Although pensions in Russia are not particularly large, even though I have earned relatively well all my life, the dream of traveling the world, as foreign old people do, has remained a dream.

At the age of sixty-seven, I had a heart attack...

*** * ***

I open my eyes and again under me pea jacket! Will they let me die normally for once?! Well, at least you're young again, but starting all over again is not life, but some kind of individual hell.

Tired of it!

I went to the entrance of the nearest sixteen-story building, broke the lock of the attic hatch and climbed on the roof. Running away, I jumped the boat forward, trying to put my head under the blow.

A short free flight, the whole life flashed before my eyes, and my pants seemed to get heavier around the fifth point. When my head met the asphalt, the pain was incredible, but quickly my eyes were covered with darkness.


End file.
